The first thing my parents did upon my arrival at my forever home was put me on the grass to pee. I darted off it, and my parents put me back; I walked on the grass like a Clydesdale trying to scrape something off the bottom of his shoes. It is evident that, like a freshman from Norman, Oklahoma, who goes to an Ivy League School, I was unfamiliar with grass, while everyone else was.
There were two more attempts to get me to pee on the grass, both unsuccessful, before I found the pads in the hall and emptied my bladder. It became apparent after a few days and walking that training me to go outside would be arduous, and there were advantages to me doing my business inside, namely not having to take me out in the New England wet and cold. They rightly anticipated I would not take to the freezing temperatures.
I am built like a high-rise apartment that runs across the entire top floor and is only eight inches wide. I have sizable legs for a 10-pound dog, and I am long. But, the actual dog part is small, and my size would lead to pee pad problems.
Dogs are like men. When males are a guest in a home, they line up their pee like Tiger Woods preparing to sink a thirty-footer to win the Masters, but when they are comfortably at home, they let it splash like a kid trying to get over the bridge at the mini golf course.
When I arrived at my house, I made sure I peed in the center of the pad, but I became less careful once I knew I had passed the audition. If my front paws were in place, I was going despite my back end being six inches short. I barely noticed the pee puddle as I ran back to the living room to snuggle.
My parents are intellectuals, so they overthink everything. They added more pie pads, but I peed on the floor as soon as my paws felt its texture. They tried a bath towel until they realized they were washing four daily. Then came dishwashing towels, which had no absorbency, and Mommy did not find them aesthetically pleasing.
Finally, they settled on paper towels trying several different layers until they settled on three. Now with how pee paper towel profits should skyrocket as I burn through several rolls a week.
I am getting good at hitting the towels as long as they are precisely four inches exposed. If less, I pee on the floor, and if more, I bunch them up under the pads.
Who knew a dog peeing inside would be so taxing?
Next: Adventures in Pooping.